🔭⚛️ Richard Feynman's love letter to his wife

 Richard Feynman was an amazing character mastering physics, thinking, life, and as we shall soon see, love. Richard and Arline Greenbaum were soul mates. They were a perfect symbiotic pair, each completing the other. They shared the love we all seek.

Feynman was fond of writing love letters to Arline. Many of them appear in Perfectly Reasonable Deviations from the Beaten Track.

None is more beautiful than the one Richard wrote to Arline sixteen months after her death.

October 17, 1946

D’Arline,

I adore you, sweetheart.

I know how much you like to hear that — but I don’t only write it because you like it — I write it because it makes me warm all over inside to write it to you.

It is such a terribly long time since I last wrote to you — almost two years but I know you’ll excuse me because you understand how I am, stubborn and realistic; and I thought there was no sense to writing.

But now I know my darling wife that it is right to do what I have delayed in doing, and that I have done so much in the past. I want to tell you I love you. I want to love you. I always will love you.

I find it hard to understand in my mind what it means to love you after you are dead — but I still want to comfort and take care of you — and I want you to love me and care for me. I want to have problems to discuss with you — I want to do little projects with you. I never thought until just now that we can do that. What should we do. We started to learn to make clothes together — or learn Chinese — or getting a movie projector. Can’t I do something now? No. I am alone without you and you were the “idea-woman” and general instigator of all our wild adventures.

When you were sick you worried because you could not give me something that you wanted to and thought I needed. You needn’t have worried. Just as I told you then there was no real need because I loved you in so many ways so much. And now it is clearly even more true — you can give me nothing now yet I love you so that you stand in my way of loving anyone else — but I want you to stand there. You, dead, are so much better than anyone else alive.

I know you will assure me that I am foolish and that you want me to have full happiness and don’t want to be in my way. I’ll bet you are surprised that I don’t even have a girlfriend (except you, sweetheart) after two years. But you can’t help it, darling, nor can I — I don’t understand it, for I have met many girls and very nice ones and I don’t want to remain alone — but in two or three meetings they all seem ashes. You only are left to me. You are real.

My darling wife, I do adore you.

I love my wife. My wife is dead.

Rich.

PS Please excuse my not mailing this — but I don’t know your new address.

🔖 Bookmark - Fobazi Ettarh: Vocational Awe and Librarianship: The Lies We Tell Ourselves

 reference: https://www.inthelibrarywiththeleadpipe.org/2018/vocational-awe/

Vocational Awe and Librarianship: The Lies We Tell Ourselves

by Fobazi Ettarh

In Brief

Vocational awe describes the set of ideas, values, and assumptions librarians have about themselves and the profession that result in notions that libraries as institutions are inherently good, sacred notions, and therefore beyond critique. I argue that the concept of vocational awe directly correlates to problems within librarianship like burnout and low salary. This article aims to describe the phenomenon and its effects on library philosophies and practices so that they may be recognized and deconstructed.

by Fobazi Ettarh

Author’s note: I use “librarians” here very broadly. I am not limiting the term to those who have the MLIS because vocational awe affects those who work in libraries at every level. I would argue that it often affects staff more than it does librarians due to the sociodemographics of people in staff level positions as well as the job precarity that many staff positions hold.

Introduction

On June 1st, Mike Newell wrote about Chera Kowalski and other librarians administering the anti-overdose drug Naloxone (more commonly known as Narcan) to patrons in and around McPherson Square Branch in Philadelphia. ((Mike Newell. “For these Philly librarians, drug tourists and overdose drills are part of the job” The Inquirer (Philadelphia, PA), June 1, 2017.)) The article went viral and was shared sixteen thousand times. Since then, Kowalski has saved dozens more lives through the administration of Naloxone. More libraries have since followed Philadelphia’s lead in Narcan training. Representative Patrick Maloney of New York introduced the Life-saving Librarians Act ((Life-saving Librarians Act, H.R.4259 (2017-2018).)) giving the Secretary of Health and Human Services the authority to award grants for Naloxone rescue kits in public libraries. To Representative Maloney, and many librarians, training librarians to be literal life-savers makes sense because it serves the needs of patrons in our communities, and society as a whole. In addition to this core value of service, democracy is another value many believe libraries bring to society. Hillary Clinton, at the 2017 ALA Annual Conference in Chicago, commended Kowalski’s work and also stated, “…You are guardians of the First Amendment and the freedom to read and to speak. The work you do is at the heart of an open, inclusive, diverse society [and] I believe that libraries and democracy go hand in hand.” ((Hillary Rodham Clinton., “Closing General Session” (speech, Chicago, Illinois, June 27, 2017), American Library Association Annual Conference, https://americanlibrariesmagazine.org/wp-content/uploads/2017/06/HRC-Transcript.pdf))

On its face, it seems natural that libraries and librarians should celebrate these stories. Indeed, these librarians are working to save the democratic values of society as well as going above and beyond to serve the needs of their neighbors and communities. However, when the rhetoric surrounding librarianship borders on vocational and sacred language rather than acknowledging that librarianship is a profession or a discipline, and as an institution, historically and contemporarily flawed, we do ourselves a disservice.

“Vocational awe” refers to the set of ideas, values, and assumptions librarians have about themselves and the profession that result in beliefs that libraries as institutions are inherently good and sacred, and therefore beyond critique. In this article, I would like to dismantle the idea that librarianship is a sacred calling; thus requiring absolute obedience to a prescribed set of rules and behaviors, regardless of any negative effect on librarians’ own lives. I will do this by demonstrating the ways vocational awe manifests. First, I will describe the institutional mythologies surrounding libraries and librarians. Second, I will dismantle these mythologies by demonstrating the role libraries play in institutional oppression. Lastly, I will discuss how vocational awe disenfranchises librarians and librarianship. By deconstructing some of these assumptions and values so integrally woven into the field, librarianship can hopefully evolve into a field that supports and advocates for the people who work in libraries as much as it does for physical buildings and resources.

Part One: The Mythos of Libraries and Librarianship

Librarianship as Vocation

The word “vocation” (from the Latin vocatio) is defined as “a call, summons,” ((Jeffrey Scholes. “Vocation.” Religion Compass, 4 (2010): 211–220.)) and stemmed from early Christian tradition, where it was held that the calling required a monastic life under vows of chastity, poverty, and obedience. ((Dorothy Emmet. “Vocation.” Journal of Medical Ethics, 4, no. 3:(1978): 146-147.)) Indeed, from its earliest biblical instantiations, a vocation refers to the way one lives in response to God’s call. Although the word has since become used in more secular contexts, my use of the word “vocation” to describe contemporary views of librarianship skews closer to its original religious context, especially concerning the emphasis on poverty and obedience. Many librarians refer to the field of librarianship as a calling. ((Anonymous. “Who would be a librarian now? You know what, I’ll have a go.” The Guardian. March, 2016.)) ^,  ((Jamie Baker. Librarianship As Calling. The Ginger (Law) Librarian. March, 6.)) Their narratives of receiving the “call” to librarianship often fall right in line with Martin Luther’s description of vocation as the ways a person serves God and his neighbour through his work in the world. The links between librarianship and religious service are not happenstance. Indeed, the first Western librarians were members of religious orders, ((Richard E. Rubin. Foundations of Library and Information Science. Neal-Schuman Publishers, Inc. (2010) p. 36.)) serving the dual functions of copying and maintaining book collections.

The Library as a Sacred Place

The physical space of a library, like its work, has also been seen as a sacred space. One could argue that it is treated like a sanctuary, both in its original meaning (keeper of sacred things and people), and in its more contemporary meaning as a shelter or refuge. Again, the original libraries were actual monasteries, with small collections of books stuffed in choir lofts, niches, and roofs. ((A. K. Mukherjee. Librarianship: Its Philosophy and History. Asia Publishing House (1966) p. 88.)) The carrels still prevalent in many libraries today are direct descendants of these religious places. The word “carrel” originally meant “working niche or alcove” and referred to a monastery cloister area where monks would read and write. Reflecting their conjoined history, churches and libraries had similar architectural structures. These buildings were built to inspire awe or grandeur, ((Nikolaus Pevsner. A History of Building Types. (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1976) p. 98.)) ^,  ((David Kaser. The Evolution of the American Academic Library Building. (Lanham, MD: Scarecrow Press, 1997) p. 5-16, 47-60.)) and their materials meant to be treated with care. Even now the stereotypical library is often portrayed as a grandiose and silent space where people can be guided to find answers. The Bodleian Library, one of the oldest and largest libraries in Europe, still requires those who wish to use the library to swear an oath to protect the library: “I hereby undertake not to remove from the Library, or to mark, deface, or injure in any way, any volume, document, or other object belonging to it or in its custody; not to bring into the Library or kindle therein any fire or flame, and not to smoke in the Library; and I promise to obey all rules of the Library.”

Although contemporary architectural designs of libraries may not evoke the same feelings of awe they once did, libraries continue to operate as sanctuaries in the extended definition as a place of safety. Many libraries open their spaces to the disadvantaged and displaced populations in the community such as the homeless or the mentally ill. In the protests and civil unrest following the shooting death of unarmed black teenager Michael Brown in Ferguson, Missouri, the Ferguson Municipal Public Library (FMPL) became a makeshift school for children in the community. When the story went viral, there was an outpouring of books, supplies, and lunches for the children. The hashtag #whatlibrariesdo became a call to action and resulted in a huge spike in PayPal donations to FMPL. In addition, the sign on the library’s door stated, “During difficult times, the library is a quiet oasis where we can catch our breath, learn, and think about what to do next.” In this way, the library becomes a sanctuary threefold, a place where one can listen to the “still, small, voice,” ((1 Kings 19:11-13, KJV. )) a shelter for displaced populations, and a source of humanitarian aid. Since Ferguson, similar responses have occurred in libraries after major events in other areas such as Charlottesville, Virginia. And, in the current sociopolitical climate, much of the discourse surrounding these libraries center them as “safe spaces.”

Librarians as Priests and Saviors

If libraries are sacred spaces, then it stands to reason that its workers are priests. As detailed above, the earliest librarians were also priests and viewed their work as a service to God and their fellow man. Out of five hundred librarians surveyed, ninety-five percent said the service orientation of the profession motivated them to become librarians. ((Mara, Houdyshell, Patricia A. Robles, and Hua Yi. “What Were You Thinking: If You Could Choose Librarianship Again, Would You?” Information Outlook, July 3, 1999, 19– 23.)) Another study found that the satisfaction derived by serving people is what new librarians thrive on. ((Ria Newhouse and April Spisak. “Fixing the First Job.” Library Journal, Aug. 2004, 44– 46.)) Similarly, many Christians describe their religious faith as “serving God,” and to do so requires a life spent in service. Christians often reference Mark 10:45 to describe the gravity of a call to service: “For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.” Considering their conjoined history, it should come as no surprise that librarians, just like monks and priests, are often imagined as nobly impoverished as they work selflessly for the community and God’s sake. One study of seasoned librarians noted that, “surprisingly, for a profession as notoriously underpaid as librarianship, not a single respondent mentioned salary” as a negative feature of the profession. ((Teresa L. Jacobsen “Class of 1988.” Library Journal, July 12, 2004, 38–41.)) As with a spiritual “calling,” the rewards for such service cannot be monetary compensation, but instead spiritual absolution through doing good works for communities and society.

If librarians are priests then their primary job duty is to educate and to save. Biven-Tatums notes that public libraries “began as instruments of enlightenment, hoping to spread knowledge and culture broadly to the people.” ((Wayne Bivens-Tatum. Libraries and the Enlightenment. Library Juice Press, 2012.)) The assumption within librarianship is that libraries provide the essential function of creating an educated, enlightened populace, which in turn brings about a better society. Using that logic, librarians who do good work are those who provide culture and enlightenment to their communities. Saint Lawrence, the Catholic Church’s official saint of librarians and archivists, is revered for being dangled over a charcoal fire rather than surrender the Church archives. Today, librarians continue to venerate contemporary “saints” of librarianship. One example is the “Connecticut Four,” four librarians who fought a government gag order when FBI agents demanded library records under the Patriot Act. ((Doe v. Gonzalez, 386 F. Supp. 2d 66 (D.Conn. 2005).)) And now Kowalski joins the ranks as a library “saint” through the literal saving of lives with Naloxone. All of these librarians set the expectation that the fulfillment of job duties requires sacrifice (whether that sacrifice is government intimidation or hot coals), and only through such dramatic sacrifice can librarians accomplish something “bigger than themselves.”

Part Two: Locating the Library in Institutional Oppression ((nina de jesus. Locating the Library in Institutional Oppression. In the Library with the Lead Pipe. September 24, 2014.))

It is no accident that librarianship is dominated by white women. ((Gina Schlesselman-Tarango. “The Legacy of Lady Bountiful: White Women in the Library.” Library Trends, (2016) 667–86. Retrieved from: http://scholarworks.lib.csusb.edu/library-publications/34.)) Not only were white woman assumed to have the innate characteristics necessary to be effective library workers due to their true womanhood, ((See Garrison, 1972, 1979; Hildenbrand, 1996.)) characteristics which include missionary-mindedness, servility, and altruism and spiritual superiority and piety, but libraries have continually been “complicit in the production and maintenance of white privilege.” ((Todd Honma. Trippin’ over the color line: The invisibility of race in library and information studies. InterActions: UCLA Journal of Education and Information Studies, (2005)1 no.2, 1–26. Retrieved from http://escholarship.org/uc/item/4nj0w1mp)) These white women librarians in public libraries during the turn-of-the-century U.S. participated in selective immigrant assimilation and Americanization programs, projects “whose purpose was to inculcate European ethnics into whiteness” ((R. Frankenberg. White women, race matters: The social construction of whiteness. Minne- apolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1993.)) Librarianship, like the criminal justice system and the government, is an institution. And like other institutions, librarianship plays a role in creating and sustaining hegemonic values, as well as contributing to white supremacy culture. James and Okun define white supremacy culture as the ways that organizations and individuals normalize, enact, and reinforce white supremacy. ((Kenneth Jones and Tema Okun. Dismantling Racism: A Workbook for Social Change Groups. ChangeWork, 2001 http://www.cwsworkshop.org/PARC_site_B/dr-culture.html)) Cultural representations of libraries as places of freedoms (like freedom of access and intellectual freedom), education, and other democratic values do not elide libraries’ white supremacy culture with its built-in disparity and oppression. In fact, each value on which librarianship prides itself is inequitably distributed amongst society. Freedom of access is arguably the most core value of librarianship. It runs throughout the entire Library Bill of Rights and is usually defined as the idea that all information resources provided by the library should be distributed equally, and be equitably accessible to all library users.

There have been, however, vast exceptions to this ideal. Quantitatively, the most significant of these exceptions was the exclusion of millions of African Americans from public libraries in the American South during the years before the civil rights movement. ((Toby Patterson Graham. A Right to Read : Segregation and Civil Rights in Alabama’s Public Libraries, 1900-1965. (Tuscaloosa: University of Alabama Press, 2002).)) White response to desegregation efforts in public libraries varied. While some libraries quietly and voluntarily integrated, other libraries enforced “stand-up integration,” removing all of the tables and chairs from the building to minimize the interaction of the races in reading areas, or shut down the branch entirely. The result of these segregationist practices in libraries was a massive form of censorship, and this history demonstrates that access to materials is often implicated in larger societal systems of (in)equality. This should then hold true for other library values as well.

Protecting user privacy and confidentiality is necessary for intellectual freedom, and both are considered core values in librarianship. ((“Core Values of Librarianship of the American Library Association.”Accessed December 4, 2017. http://www.ala.org/advocacy/intfreedom/corevalues)) As mentioned earlier, when the Patriot Act passed in 2001, many librarians fought against handing over patron data, and there is a great deal of history of librarian activism around intellectual freedom. For example, the ALA’s Office for Intellectual Freedom coordinates the profession’s resistance efforts through the Freedom to Read Foundation. There are also multiple roundtables and committees focused on local, state, national, ((E.g. ALA Intellectual Freedom Committee (IFC),Intellectual Freedom Round Table (IFRT), Freedom to Read Foundation (FTRF), etc.)) and international conflicts over intellectual freedom. However, similarly to freedom of access, there have been exceptions. And, as libraries grapple with justifying their existence, many have turned to gathering large amounts of patron data in order to demonstrate worth. Further, while often resisting government intrusions, libraries also commonly operate as an arm of the state. For example, Lexis-Nexis, a library vendor used in many libraries, is participating in a project to assist in building ICE’s Extreme Vetting surveillance system. ((Sam Biddle and Spencer Woodman. “These are the technology firms lining up to build Trump’s ”Extreme Vetting Program.'”The Intercept. August 7 2017.)) This system would most likely gather data from public use computers and webpages in public, academic, and private libraries across the nation, and determine and evaluate one’s probability of becoming a positively contributing member of society, or whether they intend to commit criminal or terrorist acts after entering the United States. Although the erosion of privacy is not limited to libraries, other fields do not claim to hold the information needs and inquiries of their constituents quite as dearly.

Part Three: Martyrdom is not a long-lasting career

Up until this point, it might seem like I believe librarians should not take pride in their very important work. Or that librarians who love their work and have a passion for library values possess some inherent flaw. This is not my intent. Rather, I challenge the notion that many have taken as axiomatic that libraries are inherently good and democratic, and that librarians, by virtue of working in a library, are responsible for this “good” work. This sets up an expectation that any failure of libraries is largely the fault of individuals failing to live up to the ideals of the profession, rather than understanding that the library as an institution is fundamentally flawed. Below, I mention the primary ways vocational awe negatively impacts librarians.

Awe

We’ve now uncovered the roots of vocation within librarianship and its allusions to religiosity and the sacred. The vocational metaphor helps us understand cause. However, it is important not to forget awe, which represents the effect. Merriam-Webster defines awe as “an emotion variously combining dread, veneration, and wonder that is inspired by authority or by the sacred.” ((Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary. 11th ed. Springfield, MA: Merriam-Webster, 2003. Continually updated at https://www.merriam-webster.com/.)) As mentioned earlier, libraries were created with the same architectural design as churches in order to elicit religious awe. Awe is not a comforting feeling, but a fearful and overwhelming one. One of its earliest uses was within the Hindu epic Mahabarata. The God Krishna inspired awe in the protagonist Arjuna and commanded him: “Do works for Me, make Me your highest goal, be loyal-in-love to Me, cut all [other] attachments…” ((Eknath Easwaran. The Bhagavad Gita. Tomales: Nilgiri Press, 2009.)) A more modern, secular example of awe is the military doctrine “shock and awe,” which is characterized as rapid dominance that relies on the use of overwhelming power and spectacular displays of force to paralyze the enemy’s perception of the battlefield and destroy their will to fight. In both cases, awe is used as a method of eliciting obedience from people in the presence of something bigger than themselves.

As part of vocational awe in libraries, awe manifests in response to the library as both a place and an institution. Because the sacred duties of freedom, information, and service are so momentous, the library worker is easily paralyzed. In the face of grand missions of literacy and freedom, advocating for your full lunch break feels petty. And tasked with the responsibility of sustaining democracy and intellectual freedom, taking a mental health day feels shameful. Awe is easily weaponized against the worker, allowing anyone to deploy a vocational purity test in which the worker can be accused of not being devout or passionate enough to serve without complaint.

Burnout

With the expansion of job duties, and expectation of “whole-self” librarianship, it is no surprise that burnout is a common phenomenon within libraries. Harwell defines burnout as the prolonged exposure to workplace stressors that often drain an employee’s vitality and enthusiasm, and often leads to less engagement and productivity. ((Kevin Harwell. “Burnout Strategies for Librarians.” Journal of Business & Finance Librarianship 13, no. 3 (2008): 379-90.)) And being overworked is not the sole cause of burnout. In a study of academic librarians, ((Julien, Heidi, and Shelagh Genuis. “Emotional Labour in Librarians’ Instructional Work.” Journal of Documentation 65, no. 6 (2009): 926-37.)) study participants said they are forced to regulate their emotions in their work and that they often feel an incongruity between the emotions they have to show and what they really feel. Librarians who interact with the public on a regular basis must interact with uncooperative and unwilling patrons, patrons who want preferential treatment, and so on. In the memorable phrasing of Nancy Fried Foster, patrons often approach the reference desk looking for a “Mommy Librarian,” someone who can offer emotional support, reassurance, sociality, answers, and interventions at points of pain or need.” ((Emmelhainz, Celia, Seale, Maura, and Erin Pappas. “Behavioral Expectations for the Mommy Librarian: The Successful Reference Transaction as Emotional Labor.” The Feminist Reference Desk: Concepts, Critiques and Conversations, edited by Maria T. Accardi, 27-45. Library Juice Press: Sacramento, CA, 2017. escholarship.org/uc/item/2mq851m0)) The gendered expectations of a library profession that is majority female can certainly exacerbate the gendered expectations placed upon interactions with patrons. Ironically, institutional response to burnout is the output of more “love and passion,” through the vocational impulses noted earlier and a championing of techniques like mindfulness and “whole-person” librarianship.

Under-compensation

“One doesn’t go into librarianship for the money” is a common refrain amongst library workers, and the lack of compensation for library work is not a recent phenomenon. A 1929 report summarized that “improvement in these conditions has not yet reached a point where librarianship may be said to receive proper recognition and compensation.” And in the 2017 Library Journal‘s Placements and Salaries survey, graduates overwhelmingly pointed to underemployment issues as a source of unhappiness, including low wages; lack of benefits; having to settle for part-time, temporary, or nonprofessional positions; or having to piece together two or three part-time positions to support themselves. Librarians’ salaries continue to remain lower than those for comparable jobs in professions requiring similar qualifications and skills. Statistics like these point to the very secular realities of librarians. Librarianship is a job, often paid hourly. It’s not even everyone’s primary job. It has sick time, and vacation–or should–and imagining these facts aren’t important because of the importance of the library’s mission only serves the institution itself.

Through its enforcement of awe through the promotion of dramatic and heroic narratives, the institution gains free, or reduced price, labor. Through vocational mythologies that reinforce themes of sacrifice and struggle, librarianship sustains itself through the labor of librarians who only reap the immaterial benefits of having “done good work.”

Job creep

Job creep refers to the “slow and subtle expansion of job duties” which is not recognized by supervisors or the organization. ((Van Dyne, and Ellis, “Job creep: A reactance theory perspective on organizational citizenship behavior as overfulfillment of obligations,” in The employment relationship: examining psychological and contextual perspectives ed. Phillip Appleman (New York : Oxford University Press).)) As this article argues, librarians are often expected to place the profession and their job duties before their personal interests. And with such expectations, job creep can become a common phenomenon. The problem with job creep manifests in multiple ways. One, what employees originally did voluntarily is no longer considered “extra” but instead is simply viewed as in-role job performance, which leads to more and more responsibilities and less time in which to accomplish them. Employees who cannot do more than what is in the job description, perhaps for personal or health reasons, are consequently seen as not doing even the minimum, and management may come to believe that workers are not committed to the organization, or its mission, if they don’t do extra tasks. Returning to Chera Kowalski and all of the other librarians currently training to administer, and already administering, anti-overdose medication, this expectation has gone so far as to create a precedent for Representative Maloney to introduce the Life-saving Librarians Act. No longer are these trainings voluntary “extra” professional development; it will likely soon become part of the expected responsibilities of librarians across the country.

Adding duties like life-or-death medical interventions to already overstrained job requirements is an extreme but very real example of job creep. And with the upholding of librarianship as purely service-oriented and self-sacrificing, what is a librarian to do who may not feel equipped to intervene as a first responder? Or a librarian who is dedicated to, say, a library value of children’s literacy or freedom of information, but because of past traumas, cannot cope with regular exposure to loss of life on the job? Librarianship as a religious calling would answer that such a librarian has failed in her duties and demonstrated a lack of purity required of the truly devout. And without the proper training and institutional support that first responders, social workers, and other clinicians have, librarians, through such job creep, are being asked to do increasingly dangerous emotional and physical labor without the tools and support provided to other professions traditionally tasked with these duties. As newspapers, Clinton, and librarians around the nation celebrate Kowlaski and others like her, we must ask if those voices will chime in to also demand the therapy and medical services typically needed for PTSD and other common ailments of those working in such severe conditions. Do we expect those benefits to manifest, or librarians to again quietly suffer the consequences of their holy calling, saving society at the expense of their own emotional well-being?

Diversity

By the very nature of librarianship being an institution, it privileges those who fall within the status quo. Therefore librarians who do exist outside librarianship’s center can often more clearly see the disparities between the espoused values and the reality of library work. But because vocational awe refuses to acknowledge the library as a flawed institution, when people of color and other marginalized librarians speak out, their accounts are often discounted or erased. Recently, Lesley Williams of Evanston, Illinois, made headlines for being fired from her library due to comments (on her personal social media accounts), illustrating the hypocritical actions of her library in regards to the lack of equitable access to information. Although she was advocating for the core library value of equitable access, similar to that of the “Connecticut Four,” her actions were regarded as unprofessional.

As I mentioned earlier, vocational awe ties into the phenomena of job creep and undercompensation in librarianship due to the professional norms of service-oriented and self-sacrificing workplaces. But creating professional norms around self-sacrifice and underpay self-selects those who can become librarians. If the expectation built into entry-level library jobs includes experience, often voluntary, in a library, then there are class barriers built into the profession. Those who are unable to work for free due to financial instability are then forced to either take out loans to cover expenses accrued or switch careers entirely. Librarians with a lot of family responsibilities are unable to work long nights and weekends. Librarians with disabilities are unable to make librarianship a whole-self career.

Conclusions

Considering the conjoined history of librarianship and faith, it is not surprising that a lot of the discourse surrounding librarians and their job duties carries a lot of religious undertones. Through the language of vocational awe, libraries have been placed as a higher authority and the work in service of libraries as a sacred duty. Vocational awe has developed along with librarianship from Saint Lawrence to Chera Kowalski. It is so saturated within librarianship that people like Nancy Kalikow Maxwell can write a book, Sacred Stacks: The Higher Purpose of Libraries and Librarianship, not only detailing connections between librarianship and faith, but concluding the book by advising librarians to nurture that religious image conferred upon them. The ideals of librarianship are not ignoble, and having an emotional attachment to the work one does is not negative in itself, and is often a valued goal in most careers. What I have tried to do with this article is illustrate that history and expose the problematic underpinnings. Because vocational awe is so endemic and connected to so many aspects of librarianship, the term gives the field a way to name and expose these things that are so amorphous that they can be explained or guilted away, much like microaggressions. And, through the power of naming, can hopefully provide a shield librarians can use to protect themselves.

The problem with vocational awe is the efficacy of one’s work is directly tied to their amount of passion (or lack thereof), rather than fulfillment of core job duties. If the language around being a good librarian is directly tied to struggle, sacrifice, and obedience, then the more one struggles for their work, the “holier” that work (and institution) becomes. Thus, it will become less likely that people will feel empowered, or even able, to fight for a healthier workspace. A healthy workplace is one where working around the clock is not seen as a requirement, and where one is sufficiently compensated for the work done, not a workplace where “the worker [is] taken for granted as a cog in the machinery.” ((Ellen Rosen. Improving Public Sector Productivity: Concepts and Practice, (Thousand Oaks, CA, USA: Sage Publications, 1993) p. 139.))

Libraries are just buildings. It is the people who do the work. And we need to treat these people well. You can’t eat on passion. You can’t pay rent on passion. Passion, devotion, and awe are not sustainable sources of income. The story of Saint Lawrence may be a noble one, but martyrdom is not a long-lasting career. And if all librarians follow in his footsteps, then librarianship will cease to exist. You might save a life when wandering outside for lunch, but you deserve the emotional support you’ll no doubt need as a result of that traumatic event. You may impress your supervisor by working late, but will that supervisor come to expect that you continually neglect your own family’s needs in the service of library patrons? The library’s purpose may be to serve, but is that purpose so holy when it fails to serve those who work within its walls every day? We need to continue asking these questions, demanding answers, and stop using vocational awe as the only way to be a librarian.

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Thanks and Acknowledgments

I’m very much indebted to the amazing and knowledgeable editors at In the Library with the Lead Pipe, and in particular to Sofia Leung and nina de jesus for diligently removing all traces of footnote inconsistency, tense changes, and rogue commas, as well as helping me create the best possible version of this article. I would also like to thank Amy Koester for keeping us all on track when necessary, and also being incredibly flexible when life inevitably got in the way. Finally, I would like to thank my partner for providing copious support as she listened to me whine and provided a steady stress writing diet of Salt and Vinegar Pringles and Uncrustables. Any mistakes left in this document are most definitely my own.

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Works Cited

“Core Values of Librarianship of the American Library Association.”Accessed December 4, 2017. http://www.ala.org/advocacy/intfreedom/corevalues

Anonymous. “Who would be a librarian now? You know what, I’ll have a go.” The Guardian. March, 2016.

Biddle, Sam and Woodman, Spencer. “These are the technology firms lining up to build Trump’s ”Extreme Vetting Program.'” The Intercept. August 7 2017.

Bivens-Tatum, Wayne. Libraries and the Enlightenment. Library Juice Press, 2012.

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de jesus, nina. Locating the Library in Institutional Oppression. In the Library with the Lead Pipe. September 24, 2014.

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🌙 What astronaut Ron Garan saw in space changed his life forever – here’s what it taught him.

A repeat because it's needed... 

RON GARAN: When we see our planet from the perspective of space, certain things become undeniably clear. We keep trying to deal with issues such as global warming, deforestation, biodiversity loss, as standalone issues, when in reality, they're just symptoms of the underlying root problem. And the problem is that we don't see ourselves as planetary. 

When I looked out the window of the International Space Station, I saw the paparazzi-like flashes of lightning storms, I saw dancing curtains of auroras that seemed so close it was as if we could reach out and touch them. And I saw the unbelievable thinness of our planet's atmosphere. At that moment, I was hit with the sobering realization that that paper-thin layer keeps every living thing on our planet alive. I saw an iridescent biosphere teeming with life. I didn't see the economy. But since our human-made systems treat everything, including the very life-support systems of our planet, as the wholly owned subsidiary of the global economy, it's obvious from the vantage point of space that we're living a lie. We need to move from thinking about the economy, society, planet to planet, society, economy. That's when we're going to continue our evolutionary process. 

I'm Ron Garan, I'm a former NASA astronaut and former combat fighter pilot and the author of "Floating in Darkness, A Journey of Evolution." 
We are all, as a species, to some extent, floating in darkness, and I use Plato's "Allegory of the Cave" to illustrate how a lot of times we think we know the whole picture when in reality we see a very, very small representation. We don't see the actual picture that will allow us to solve a lot of the problems that we face. And we're paying a really high price right now as a civilization. This is a really, really dark time, and part of the reason why we're not solving the problems is because we don't have the right perspective, we're not addressing things in the reality of the situation that they exist, and I think that's one of the reasons why we need to leave the cave, we need to get out of the darkness. 

A lot of astronauts who go to space come back and they feel that there has been some sort of transformation. And a term was coined back in the '80s called the overview effect. 

And the overview effect describes the shift that astronauts have when they see the planet hanging in the blackness of space. There's this light bulb that pops up where they realize how interconnected and interdependent we all are. 

A little over 50 years ago, humanity as a whole had a collective out-of-body experience. On Christmas Eve, 1968, the crew of Apollo 8 came out from behind the far side of the moon on their fourth orbit. They took a famous color photograph, and that photo is called "Earthrise." "Earthrise" is the first color photograph to see the whole planet hanging in the blackness of space, and the first to capture that for the rest of us, and this image revolutionized how we see the world, how we see ourselves. There is no such thing as them. There's only us. And precisely one year before the Apollo 8 astronauts were hurtling through space on their journey to the moon, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. gave a Christmas sermon on peace, and I believe that that sermon really gives words to what Earthrise evoked. 

Dr. King says.
DR. KING JR.: As nations and individuals, we are interdependent.

GARAN: We're not going to have peace on Earth until we recognize the basic fact of the interrelated structure of all reality. Now, the interrelated structure of all reality, that's not a cliche, that's not a philosophy, that's the reality of the world that we live in, that's fact. That what happens to one directly affects all of us indirectly. That we are all inextricably linked together in this fabric of life that we call Earth. So if the overview effect is that light bulb that pops on is the awareness of our interconnected interdependent nature, the orbital perspective, which is the title of my first book, is what you do with that awareness. The orbital perspective is the call to action. It's a sense of injustice that we see when we see the sobering contradiction between the indescribable beauty of our planet and the unfortunate realities of life on our planet for a significant number of the inhabitants. 

One of the things that I realized during my time in space is that we're not from Earth, we're of Earth. And to take that one step further is that we're not in the universe, we are the universe. We are the universe becoming conscious of itself. A lot of what we're talking about doesn't require going to space to realize, you don't have to be in orbit to have the orbital perspective. And one of the tools that we can use is a term that I borrowed from cinematography called a dolly zoom. And what a dolly zoom is, is where the camera is rolled back, or dollied back, at the same rate as the lens is zoomed in, and it was used in "Jaws" and "Vertigo" and many other films. And what the filmmakers use that technique for is to give altitude to a scene, and as the foreground stays the same and the background stretches. But we could also apply that term to the challenges that we face. If we dolly zoom in on a situation, that means that we zoom out to the widest geographical area we possibly can, ideally the entire planet, but as we zoom out to that big picture, we don't lose focus on the worm's-eye details on the ground. We don't zoom out to the point where people become numbers on a spreadsheet or a workforce or a voting block or a consumer block. They maintain their value as valued members of our human society. There's also a temporal aspect to this. We need to zoom out to the longest time frame possible, ideally multi-generational, but in the process, we can't lose sight of the short term. The last part of a dolly zoom is to see things from different perspectives, and so we understand the depth of our problem, and that makes our solutions that much more lasting and that much more effective. You have an incredibly powerful position to affect real change in the world. What I try to do is to live a constant dolly-zoomed life. 

I wake up every morning in my bed, but I also wake up on a planet. In the long term, I'm very optimistic, because I do see quite clearly a blossoming unity spreading across our planet, a blossoming awareness of our interdependent nature. That awareness will eventually reach critical mass and when it reaches critical mass, then we'll be able to solve the problems facing our planet. And it should give us courage during these dark times to keep doing what we know to be right and to not give up hope, because we are going to see the dawn. And when we can evolve beyond a two-dimensional us versus them mindset, and embrace the true multi-dimensional reality of the universe that we live in, that's when we're going to no longer be floating in darkness, we're going to leave the cave, and it's a future that we would all want to be a part of. 

That's our true calling.

From BIG THINK post > https://bigthink.com/life/overview-effect/

🎥 The meaning behind "Lady in the Water"

 The meaning behind "Lady in the Water"

Long ago I came across this excellent analysis of what must be one of the most unappreciated and misunderstood movies of all times - M. Night Shyamalan's Lady in the Water. It was posted on IMDb and Rotten Tomatoes boards by a guy with a nickname mjl517. At some point this review disappeared and currently there is no place on Internet where it can be found - so I decided to repost it here. No matter what do you think about Shyamalan or his movies, this is a must-read. Enjoy!

Author: mjl517

Shyamalan warned his audience to keep an open mind while watching this movie. He released a "children's book" to help establish the fantasy before the movie came out. But the complexities of its meaning are hidden behind its "fairy tale" facade. And like all fairy tales, the depth of this masterpiece extends well beyond the simplicity at its surface. If you have the interest, the endurance, AND YOU HAVE ALREADY SEEN THIS FILM, please read on.

This is a story of one man’s struggle to regain his faith and sense of purpose by overcoming emotional detachment and repression in the aftermath of an unfathomable tragedy.

First, consider the name of the apartment complex - "The Cove". A cove is a harbor along a body of running water, a sheltered inlet, like a driveway on a busy street. It is a place of seclusion, perhaps even a place to hide. The complex itself is U-shaped, and has a pool at its center. We can imagine that beyond the pool is the reality of the outside world, the “mainstream” of life. It is unknown, and something to be feared. Night has never made a movie that is so contained, so confined to a single location. The story takes place entirely within the Cove.

Now imagine that the Cove is not a physical location at all, but a world that exists only in one man's mind; and it is completely dependent upon and manipulated by his own psyche. People have commented on how the film's location lacks detail, that it is too simple, nondescript, childish, and unrealistic. This is not a flaw - this is by design. Cleveland Heep is its superintendent – its caretaker - its “healer”. And if the Cove is a product of one man's imagination, then its tenants must be as well. Cleveland has a casual familiarity with all of them. And they depend solely upon him for the mundane daily maintenance of their home - we never see his boss or any other employees. Moreover, the name “Heep” itself might reflect not only the great burden he carries, but also the great number of different “tenants” that comprise his psyche. *It is interesting to note that the British use the word “cove” as slang to mean “fellow” or “man”. Similarly, the word “Cleveland” has its roots in Old English, meaning “cliff land”, and the Clevelands were known as people from the cliffs. It is perhaps an allusion to both Cleveland’s isolation and an image of instability, danger, and urgency – “bearing a great burden, teetering on the edge of a cliff”.

In this sense, “The Lady in the Water” is arguably the most unique, imaginative, and ambitious tale of inner conflict and perseverance ever filmed. The struggle takes place within the secluded confines of an apartment complex, the tenants of which are, in this metaphorical sense, the separate, unique aspects of one man's damaged psyche. And each of them has a singular purpose in this fairy tale of faith, hope, and self-awakening. It is "a bedtime story", one of a particular type that we tell each other and ourselves before we sleep. These stories give us hope, comfort, and peace. We call them prayers.

The Cove is a close-knit community, and its tenants all seem to have lived there for some time. In fact, only two characters arrive during the movie's timeline - Story, the mythical narf, and Harry Farber, the movie critic (presumably named after legendary film critic, Manny Farber). And it is no coincidence that they show up at the same time - they are the dueling personifications of Cleveland's consuming inner conflict.

Story represents Cleveland's fractured and fragile faith in himself, in mankind, and in God. She is the hope for, and promise of, the belief in the unknown. Farber, by contrast, is the skeptic in Cleveland. His character is not simply a dig at Night's movie critics. He is the oppressive influence which closes Cleveland’s mind and forces him to see within "the rules", to accept that there is no originality left in the world, and nothing left to hope for. He defines the rules of Cleveland’s perception. Farber's simultaneous arrival represents the saboteur in Cleveland’s mind. He is the embodiment of Cleveland's debilitating doubt, generated to counter the arrival of Story – his savior, the inspiration for his burgeoning faith and redemption of purpose, presumably sent by God. While Story is the image of childlike purity and endless possibility, Farber is the closed, tamed mind of the adult, limited in imagination, and numbed by the sicknesses of society. These are the main figures in the conflict between doubt-skepticism and hope-faith. Note that Farber "must be very good" at his job in order to have been sent to this place from so far away. He is an appropriate counterpart to Story, who turns out to be of the highest and presumably most powerful status of her kind – a "Madam Narf". He is no ordinary critic, she is no ordinary narf. And it is fitting, as both Cleveland’s tragedy and his purpose are extraordinary.

The Cove’s pool is a metaphor for a man’s heart, once again incorporating Night’s connection of purity and innocence with water. Cleveland initially senses Story's presence in flashes - fleeting glimpses and the occasional sounds of splashing from the pool at night. Perhaps he has just enough faith left to recognize it when it is revealed. And he finds it in the pool, as one might find faith in the heart. She arrives naked, not only a reflection of the vulnerability of the fragile faith she represents, but a vision of the freedom and innocence that accompanies the purity of childlike inhibition. Far from able to embrace his faith, Cleveland is discomforted by her nakedness and gives her a shirt. His journal reveals to her the deep sorrow that presumably has led him to this place, and kept him lost from a life of fulfillment as a medical doctor. She reminds him that everyone has a purpose (a profound statement in the context of this story and its location). But watching Cleveland plead with Story to keep his secret from the tenants of the Cove, we witness the active repression of his pain and his debilitating inability to cope with the loss of his family. He cannot allow the separate aspects of his personality (the tenants) to experience the tragedy. Moreover, his crippling stutter (absent in her presence) is symptomatic of what appears to be Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Unable to experience the inspiration, the “awakening” of her presence, he decides to help her complete her task and protect her from the “scrunt” sent to kill her.

Cleveland is guided throughout by the character of Young-Soon, whose mother knows the ancient story behind this narf. Young-Soon is the child aspect of Cleveland’s mind that is willing to believe in fairy tales. Consider that as she translates the story to Cleveland from her mother, the two characters hear the story together for the first time. At one point, she even expresses a hope that the story is true. Her immaturity, her recurring childish exit line "bye, Mr. Heep", and even her name suggest that she is a child (despite her noteworthy height), and thus more amenable to the tales of magic and fantasy that are normally dismissed by adults. Her mother is uncomfortable translating the story in its entirety until Cleveland presents himself to her as a child. But if she is part of the Cove, then so must be the story itself – perhaps heard long ago and buried in the subconscious, perhaps a complete fabrication, or possibly parts of both. It’s not surprising if you can accept that the Cove exists in the mind of a writer. Mrs. Choi is the elderly Korean woman from within the Cove (or invented by it) who becomes the source of this fairy tale. The adult psyche finds it easier to impede the conveyance of the unbelievable story by creating it in a foreign language and from the representation of a respected but unfamiliar source – the perception of a wise and holistic people unbound by Western convention.

The “scrunt” is the manifestation of the ills and evils of society, and the horrors of which man is capable, within Cleveland’s psyche. It is a monstrous form of the fear and anxiety that has denied Cleveland his ability to right his life since his crisis. It preys upon Story. It comes from outside the Cove, from the unknown reality beyond the pool, and it only fears the Tartutic. The Tartutic are the “justice” for which Cleveland cries out when the scrunt attacks Story on the night she should be allowed to leave freely. They might more accurately be thought of as “fate”, or as that which protects the course of predestination. They are the “should”.

The one man who can control the scrunt is the "Guardian". Cleveland’s search for the guardian is the search for that part of himself that is able to face his fear, to "look it in the eye". When he misidentifies this figure as himself and confronts the scrunt, it attacks him. But only the two new arrivals, Story and Farber, appear vulnerable to physical harm by the scrunt. It’s danger to Cleveland’s own character is not actual “death”, but the threat of the reinforcement of his fear and, consequently, his psychological dysfunction. Consider that when Cleveland is about to be attacked by the scrunt, he suddenly awakens (physically unharmed) with Farber standing above him, expressing his displeasure with some movie he has just seen, and arguing against the symbolic purity of water. Also consider that he is standing between Cleveland and the pool at the time, actualizing a metaphor of a man being denied the purity of his heart by his own skepticism and doubt. Cleveland actually credits Farber for having saved him from the scrunt. But Farber was not the savior - he was the trauma, the damage itself - the stifling of Cleveland’s belief, and the reinforcement of his doubt and inability to face his fear once again. It is a powerful crystallization of how Cleveland’s mind works against him.

Vick Ran (Shyamalan, himself), is “the writer inspired by the Story”. His first words to Cleveland – “The light over my desk is still broken.” You can’t write without light, and it’s something Cleveland has been putting off. But a light is not a difficult fix, and Vick does not seem to be in a rush to finish his book. Cleveland sees the book by chance while repairing the light, and initially dismisses its content after observing its title, “The Cookbook”. But he is soon reminded to never judge a book by its cover (how very appropriate).

Vick’s character is at least as important as Cleveland’s. The prediction of his future describes how his book will have a profound philosophical influence on the world, and how this socio-ideological impact would result in his own death. Vick draws an indirect comparison to Martin Luther King within the story itself; and we are reminded of other figures such as Christ, and of other doctrines, or “cookbooks”, such as the Bible. Vick represents the “purpose” that Story assures Cleveland he has not lost. He is the part of Cleveland’s psyche that is capable of accomplishing great things. Such endeavors, however, expose the psyche to harsh and potentially stifling criticism – the “murder” of the creative mind – something of which Night himself has faced, and continues to face, far too much.

Whether writing “The Cookbook” is the literal greatness, or purpose, of which Cleveland is capable, and whether the death of Vick Ran is the literal death of Cleveland Heep, is for the viewer to determine. But it is a reasonable conclusion, if you extend Cleveland’s role as the “healer” to meaning the “healer of mankind”. In this scenario, perhaps the pain of the tragedy he experienced would be the catalyst and inspiration for this doctor to attempt to change the world by writing a book. Conversely, it is conceivable that Vick Ran - the “writer”, the “purpose” - is the true subject of this story. He is the “vessel” of Story’s inspiration, and the only part of himself that Cleveland can correctly identify before being influenced by the skeptical, closed-minded Farber. He shares Cleveland’s sad and quiet demeanor, his self-effacement - "I'm nothing special". He is single (as are just about all of the main players as far as we are aware), but cannot easily care for himself, to cook or clean, and relies on his sister in this domestic capacity. Of course, he would be unaware that he has ever had a wife or children, as would all but two of the other tenants in the Cove, since that information has been repressed, hidden within Cleveland’s "journal". Cleveland Heep, the “healer”, may not actually be the man behind the psyche represented by the Cove, but only that part of the whole that is responsible for its healing. In this case, Cleveland’s task is to heal himself, Vick Ran – the healer of mankind. Therefore, Cleveland’s inability to satisfy this obligation until he, himself - "the healer", is healed is the true meaning behind this story.

In his search for the remaining cast that is necessary for Story to return to the "Blue World" Cleveland seeks the advice of Farber, the man he erroneously identifies as “the person whose opinion he respects”. This path ultimately culminates in a party (a celebration of Farber's arrival, no doubt!). And it is during what is, in essence, this celebration of skepticism and closed-mindedness that Story (Cleveland's faith) is dragged off and nearly killed. The series of misidentifications illustrates not only Cleveland’s detachment - his inability to know himself, but also the destructive process of another symptom of Cleveland's disturbed psyche - self-sabotage. So it is no coincidence that Cleveland cannot complete this task and accept that he is the “healer" (of Story, his faith) until Farber (his skepticism) is killed by the scrunt.

“The Guardian” turns out to be Reggie, who wears the dog tags of a soldier. He is a normal man that is not consumed with, but only partially occupied by, a need for physical strength. After all, Reggie’s true power is ultimately not physical. Reggie is a representation of both Cleveland’s strength and lack of strength. His intentionally one-sided muscular development not only suggests Cleveland’s inability to utilize (or even identify) his inner strength, but also indicates a systematic, “scientific” maintenance of an emotional imbalance and instability.

“The Interpreter” is originally thought to be Mr. Dury because of his proficiency with crossword puzzles. In actuality, the interpreter is his son, Joey. The selection emphasizes the ability of children to see things with a clarity and simplicity that becomes lost for adults as they become limited by social paradigms and restrictions. In fact, Mr. Dury at one point admits that his ability with puzzles and symbolism is limited to his crosswords. The loss of this childhood ability is poignantly illustrated by this father-son disparity - it is Mr. Dury that realizes that his son (presumably the child version of himself - "I'm gonna be just like my dad") is the real interpreter. The idea denotes the endurance of important childlike notions in Cleveland's psyche. It also refers to a psychological healing process that addresses the significance of childhood perceptions, and the subsequent development of emotions and coping strategies during childhood.

"Someone whose opinion Cleveland values" turns out to be the shut-in, Mr. Leeds. He is the only tenant who knows of Cleveland's tragedy (the only other part of his psyche from which it has not been completely repressed). Mr. Leeds "has been here forever". He sits in a dark room, surrounded by books, staring at images of war on television. His role is somewhat paternal - he refers to Cleveland as “son” (“don’t become what I have”), and encourages him to “not give up”. He somehow sees everything that’s going on around him in the Cove. He is Cleveland's conscience, his conviction - what some would consider to be functions of “the Soul”. He is the inner voice, the moral compass that guides him. Even his name is significant. But he is the part of the Cove that has been most affected by the sins of mankind and the toxicity of society - "I wanted to believe more than anyone". In what is essentially inner dialogue, he questions aloud whether man should be saved - and Cleveland answers that he should be. In this moment, Cleveland expresses a desire to live - to be healed, and to rebuild the trust to reattach himself with society.

The "someone with no secrets" is Mr. Bubchik, the man who is unaware that his wife reveals his secrets. He represents the undeniable reality of Cleveland's weakness, his shortcomings, and his mortality. This candidness promotes a sense of honesty and comfort, a willingness to accept oneself despite one’s flaws. Mr. Bubchik represents that which Cleveland has no choice but to accept. And he provides Cleveland the opportunity to relieve himself of the guilt that has accompanied the burden of his secret. He cannot forgive himself for that over which he had no control - the inability to save his family – unless he is able to openly share it with himself.

"The Guild” consists of seven women, a group formed to protect a common interest. The number seven is prominent in religion and mythology – “The Seven Divine Women” (in Khasi mythology), “The Seven Sleeping Men” (in Christian mythology), “The Seven Mothers” (in Hindu mythology), “The Seven Virtues”, “The Seven Sacraments”, and so forth. And a group of women is a representation of Cleveland's burgeoning sense of self worth - the empowerment of that which is generally perceived to be weak and undervalued (this is particularly true in many traditional Hispanic cultures which are known to be excessively misogynistic). The first scene of the movie (a clever foreshadowing) shows Cleveland trying to kill a "big, hairy" bug under the sink of a Hispanic family's apartment. In the background, we see the family's daughters brandishing makeshift weapons and squealing in fear of the bug. They make up five of the Guild's sisters. The others include Anna Ran, Vick's sister (who acts more as a wife or mother to him at times), and Young-Soon, who makes an early reference to her sister who married a dentist, and who is invaluable in guiding Cleveland along his journey of self-awakening. The Guild assists Cleveland through their “laying on of hands” in the climactic scene involving Story's healing and his own catharsis. The image illustrates Cleveland's need for emotional attachment (more typically associated with women and prohibited for men in Western culture) in order to connect with what he has repressed. Conversely, these women who provide emotional aid in this scene are armed and readily patrolling the pool's perimeter in the next. It’s a testament to the power of women to both heal and protect.

The group gathers together to “bring strength to the moment” of Story’s (and Cleveland’s) healing and liberation. It is only then that he is able to reach catharsis. He reveals his tragedy to all aspects of himself, and releases the repressed pain and guilt that have kept him isolated in the Cove. It is at this moment that he is able to heal and embrace his hope and faith once again, leaving it safe and appropriate for the angelic Story to return to the Blue World on the wings of the Great Eatlon. Presumably, God’s angel has fulfilled her task to save a man – indeed, all of mankind (she is the Madam Narf) - and returned to heaven.

Shyamalan has called this his most personal film - an especially significant statement, considering how personal all of his stories have been. In fact, he has referred to them as his “children”. Criticism of “The Village” stripped him of his credibility for his prior three great and well-received productions. So he cast himself as the writer whose inspiration by the Story helps him escape his doubt and heal his faith. Is “The Lady in the Water”, then, the “story” of his healing? Or is it the story that healed him? Or is it both?

This man is portrayed by many as an egomaniac. Yet he has done perhaps the most humble thing imaginable – he’s created a story of amazing depth and value, but he has left it for the viewer to tie together. In this sense, he has created an incredible scenario in which the story is actually critical of the viewer. He writes stories that he would appreciate, and that a select group of the audience (however small) will appreciate. And he allows himself to be bashed for its simplicity and banality by those who can’t appreciate his effort, content that this inability is criticism enough of his critics. Think of this scenario in the context of this movie! It’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen in entertainment, and I only hope I’ve done it some justice.